


November 12th

by JeSouhaite



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: F/M, Samoa, ho ho ho Namaste
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeSouhaite/pseuds/JeSouhaite
Summary: Giselle pays a visit to Saul. Gene also makes an appearance. And in the end - once again - Kim fixes everything.
Relationships: Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Kim Wexler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	November 12th

#### 12th November, 2009

Kim paid the bartender at the first class lounge at Denver Airport to make an appointment over the phone. Once that was settled she bought a large straw hat and sunglasses at a kiosk to form her disguise. The whole operation reminded her of their old schemes giving her a nostalgic buzz.

A little more than two hours later she was sitting outside in the parking lot of the strip mall in her rental car. _The place hasn’t changed much,_ Kim noted, zoning in and out just looking at Lady Liberty taken for a dance by the breeze outside.

“Sore throat, sorry,” she mumbled as a mantra over and over again with ever increasing thickness of what she hoped would pass as a convincing South African accent.

Her phone’s alarm went off. _2.50pm_

With a deep, calming breath Kim got out of her car and ran her hands down her clothes, smoothing the creases of the fabric and her nerves. She opened her business card holder and dug into a little, hard to access back compartment getting out a card they’d made up together years ago.

She slid it over to Francesca, hoping there wouldn't be any questions. Saul’s assistant made no comments - probably used to weirder folks passing by around here - and reached for the intercom before Kim could explain her muteness. “Your 3 o’clock’s here. Giselle Saint Claire.”

An agonisingly long few seconds of silence followed, during which Kim was hit with the uncomfortable possibility that he might not wanted to see her. Not that things ended between them in a particularly nasty manner. In fact, now that she thought about it, neither of them spoke the actual words. It was just that one day Kim moved out of state and Jimmy stayed. That and they completely stopped talking to each other. Not that they have talked much before she put her life into a bunch of boxes. To this day she found it incredible - and not in a good way - how two people who used to talk all through the night ended up living in silence.

 _Was all of this her fault?_ And there it was rearing its ugly head up again: regret. It hit her like a fastball to the heart. Before she could start beating herself up Jimmy’s voice answered with a stammer.

“Send--send her in!”

When Kim entered Jimmy was still sitting at his desk, finger hovering above the button for the intercom to reception. His eyes narrowed watching her shut the door and take off her hat and sunglasses throwing them on his couch along with her purse. On auto-pilot he buzzed his assistant again. “Francesca, we’re done for today. You guys go home. And switch on the voicemail.”

“Okay.” Came the flat confirmation.

“Kim?” Jimmy stood from behind his enormous desk, his eyes never leaving her as if he was afraid she would disappear should he blink.

She had lost a few pounds the last two months, and a couple more the last two years. Haven’t really had time to go to the hairdresser since _that_ phonecall in September. She imagined she looked a mess but she did her best to mask what she could, to appear strong. She even managed to muster a small smile.

He was slowly walking towards her, his brows dancing in confusion as she continued to stand near the door. “What--what are you---?”

There was a transcript, a carefully laid out plan for a perfectly acceptable conversation with proper easing in. Problem was she has done preparations with an emotionless image of Jimmy she still had in her head. This Jimmy, he looked so baffled and wasn’t even trying to conceal how her presence was affecting him: a forlorn expression on his face battling with hope, hands shaking, one even rising a bit, reaching for her then sharply returning to his side.

It just bubbled out of her. “My---dad’s dead.”

“Shit, Kim.” His hesitant demeanour gone, he closed the gap between them and opened his arms to let her sink into his embrace with a chocked sob. This was the first time she had let herself cry - really cry - after doing her damnedest to stay strong for her father for the last two months. She had never admitted to it but she always enjoyed being enveloped in Jimmy’s arms, finding a sense of calm and security in there that she never knew she needed.

Unpractised as she was in this type of emotional release, Kim quickly managed to get a hold of herself, pulling away, wiping her tears in a hurry, an apology on her lips as his arms reluctantly fell from around her. “Sorry. I promise I didn’t come here to blubber all over you.”

“Hey. It’s okay.” _If somewhat unsettling,_ he added in his head. Noticing her sniffling he quickly picked up the box of kleenex from the coffee table, handing it to her. “Sorry, I’m no Cary Grant.”

She took a tissue blowing her nose with a small chuckle. He gently took a hold of her elbow and led her towards the couch.

“C’mon. Sit.” He manoeuvred them to sit closely with him sitting sideways, his right hand lightly covering her right knee as a small form of comfort. “Tell me what happened.”

 _This was unusual,_ Kim thought. They never really talked about emotional subjects like this but Jimmy kept prompting her, asking her about her feelings. His hand on her knee was alternating between just being there, squeezing or fingers gently caressing. And the words were just flowing out of her.

She told him about the phonecall, the cancer, the few talks she managed to have with her father and with each passing word the weight on her chest got more and more bearable.

Towards the end of her story she kept glancing down at his garish tie and golden collar pin. Unthinkingly and without breaking his compassionate gaze with her Jimmy removed the pin first, tossing it on the coffee table. Then he loosened his tie haphazardly pulling it over his head messing up his hair in the progress. Kim gave him an approving smile that quickly disappeared. Her face expressionless her hands landed at the middle of his chest fingers attacking a button on his bright green shirt. Jimmy sucked in a breath then his hands joined hers opening his cuffs and helping her push and pull his shirt off.

Once he was dis-Sauled he looked back up at her with a lopsided smile. She smiled back, a hand going for his hair, fingers running through it to fix the mess they have made. Jimmy’s hand - the one that found its way back to her knee - clenched as his heart beat wildly in his chest. His eyes closed for a moment savouring the feeling and trying his best to regain his emotional footing.

When blue met blue again he found he couldn’t breathe. Kim had a determined look on her face, one he knew very well therefore was not that surprised when her lips landed on his.

Lost in a sensuous kiss the minutes flew by in bliss, outside world completely locked out. At one point Kim moved to straddle him. Their clothes were disappearing one-by-one from between them when they could bother to stop for a little air and even then each of them did their best to try and place a small kiss wherever on the other’s body they could reach as if they had stopped kissing for a second their bond and this moment would be broken again.

At one point Kim cradled his face in her hands making him look at her then in a rare show of openness and vulnerability she professed. “I miss you so much, Jimmy.”

And God, it wasn’t like he hadn’t dreamt about this so many times since she had left. So what if she was maybe using him to forget her grief. Sex had been a source of comfort for both of them for the best part of the last two decades now and whilst other aspects of their relationship may not have worked very well, this one always did.

Afterwards - now both dressed albeit in Jimmy’s case just in an undershirt and trousers - they sat on the couch with his arm around Kim, her head resting on his chest fingers playing with one of his arm running over the soft inside of his lower arm then drawing circles in his palm whilst his arm around her was absent-mindedly caressing her upper arm. Both savouring this moment of temporary happiness in silence.

After a while and a big breath in Jimmy shared on an exhale. “I go to therapy.”

Kim pulled back a little to be able to look into his eyes, disbelief writ on her face. “You what?”

There was a red tinge colouring the very top of his cheeks as he made the embarrassed admission. “Let’s just say that after getting talked out of marrying an Eastern European girl by Ernie in a strip joint I kinda had a revelation and I--I realised that me keep saying ‘I’ve fucked up’ wasn’t exactly solving anything but was rather a proof that _maybe_ I had the wrong idea about how to exist... Howard gave me the number of his guy and, uh--I’ve dealt with the Chuck shit. And...well, mostly we’ve been working on my inner monologue. Try and crank it down a bit and make it sound more like a Buddhist Santa Claus.” He was squirming a bit by this point. It was time for the attempt at levity, putting on his best jolly voice. “Ho, ho, ho, Namaste." He trailed off awkwardly with a little cough, "..and all that.”

Kim was staring at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in awe. He ran out of words and was about to ask her opinion on this little development in his life when a beautiful, teasing smile bloomed on her lips.

“Marry me.” Jimmy chuckled thinking it a jest. Kim shook her head. “I’m serious, Jimmy.”

And for a moment he had let himself imagine it: his third wife, the one that would finally stick. Kim in a white dress walking towards him, slipping a golden ring on her slender finger, trying to say ‘I do’ amidst being choked by happy tears. And then the best part: having her back in his everyday life, waking up together, brushing teeth, having breakfast, watching attractive men in the snow. That sense of domesticity that he had missed. He yearned for it so much it hurt.

His words laced with regret he croaked, “I can’t.”

“Oh, ah, okay. I understand---” Her smile gone she started pulling away but his arms held her back.

“No, you don’t.” She halted her retreat, raising a curious eyebrow. “I’m in way too deep, Kim. I can’t risk your life as well.”

Denial kicked in. She refused to accept they couldn’t find a solution where they got to keep holding onto this moment. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It’s worse,” he sighed, looking away from her hopeful gaze in shame. By habit he stopped there, keeping it vague. She was looking at him expectantly, eyes probing, waiting for him to elaborate. “You’ve heard about the blue meth?” She nodded and he knew she was already running over possible scenarios in her head the way her gaze kept darting around. “I’ve helped create a monster.”

She detected his fear and offered the only way out. “We could run together.”

The last two years were agony masquerading as success. Kim’s career was going great, as it should when one put 14-16 hour days - including weekends - into it. She often spent her nights on the couch in her office, partly so she could save time on the commute but mostly because her bed at home felt way too large and only served as one giant reminder of how empty her life had become. Sometimes she cursed Jimmy because not only did no man could ever measure up to him, she found that she was also comparing potential friends to him, dismissing them quickly, knowing none would ever be able to get her as he used to. Not that she craved meaningful human contact. As she grew older she realised that she just wasn’t that type of person, that maybe if she never had met Jimmy she would have been completely fine dedicating her whole life to the Law without ever feeling lonely.

“Kim...” He objected half-heartedly. “What sort of life would that be?”

Her left hand gripped his, squeezed hard enough it hurt. “A life where I have you.”

“Dammit. You should be the voice of reason. You know I’m shit at this.” She smirked thinking she was close to winning. She was miffed at Jimmy for finding strength and fighting back. “It wouldn’t work. Mike tried to bail and now he’s…”

That did it. Kim deflated, looking down at their joined hands in sorrow. She only knew Mike in passing and Jimmy always did his best to not let her in on the gritty details of some of the hairier aspects of their scams but she still knew that the old ex-cop was much better at the cloaks and daggers shit than Jimmy ever wished to become.

“I do have a plan,” he declared, trying to cheer them up both. Still not sure just how much she wanted to know he carefully asked, “Wanna hear it?”

Her head snapped back up, eyes glassy but hopeful as she nodded and Jimmy laid out all his cards.

“I’ve--I’ve been making the money laundering a bit harder -- Nothing that could be traced to me.-- The wife’s in charge of it and I’m pretty sure she is the key to stopping all this. Plus I know she is feeling pretty shitty about being separated from the kids, so, you know, pushing those pain points a bit whenever I can...and uh, I think it’s working.” He didn’t particularly enjoy manipulating people like this but swore to himself that this was the last time he would tell himself the end justified the means. And hey, it was not like it was purely for personal gain, the Whites would also win should this work.

Kim was nodding along in silent approval so he carried on. “Once I’m done with him I’ll need to do a very thorough scrub down. I’ve been offloading most of the Ice Station Zebra money to charities that help addicts, a few that provide legal aid... And of course I’d be ditching the name Saul Goodman. Go back to being Jimmy McGill.”

“Jimmy.” Kim could not hold it in any longer, letting herself be swept up in this potential, happy future. “You know, Howard’s been asking me about coming back. Become his partner. Could you imagine that? HMM. Hamlin, McGill and McGill.”

Trust Kim to take a good plan and make it spectacular. He gulped, the lump in his throat a welcome pain. He tried to joke away the way his heart fluttered in his chest. “How old fashioned of you. Where’s the progressive California girl suggesting I become James Wexler?”

She gave him the giggle he was fishing for.

Bringing them both back closer to the more sombre reality he muttered, “I’ve told Howard no already. I don’t want his guilt and my reputation to wreck what he’s built.”

The idea of McGill and McGill popped up in Kim’s head and for the first time it did not fill her with dread. _That was something to explore later,_ she told herself. Meanwhile Jimmy mused, “I think I’ll be fine doing PD work. With my experience I might even be able to make some difference...Once it was all done I was--I was planning on flying out to LA. Stand under your window with a boombox...”

“I like your plan. Except for the boombox bit. I think my neighbours and myself would be much happier with you ringing the doorbell instead.” In his mind he was already standing on her doorstep with some take out - the true way to this woman’s heart. He couldn’t wait and it seemed neither could she. “Maybe we can speed---”

“Agh, no, Kim. This is on me.” He was adamant about this. Walter White could never, ever know about Kim’s existence and the hold she had on his heart, the one he had been hiding so well these past years. “Give me a year.”

Her nose scrunched up in that adorable way when she got a little annoyed. It normally preluded her giving in. “Okay... One year. Not a minute longer.”

He did not want to say it but he hoped he could carry the plan out in much less than 12 months. He was looking forward to surprising her. But as things tended to go lately, he knew he had to arrange for contingencies.

“Call first. But not here. There’s this phone booth out in the desert...” He wrote down the number he knew by heart on a piece of paper.

“Jimmy. Promise me you’ll be careful.” He could only nod. His optimism was starting to get its usual beatdown from the ever depressing, constant, lingering presence of Walter White.

Kim did him the favour of wiping his mind clear again pulling him in for a deep kiss. Their time together was slowly coming to its end but first, they have made sure they both had something to hold on to for the next year.

#### 1st November, 2010

Jimmy got home after another long shift at Cinnabon. He longed for a shower to get rid of the smell of cinnamon and sugar that has overtaken his new life. His la-z-boy chair swivelled around complete with a slender figure sitting in it.

“Hey,” she greeted him cheerfully giving him a toothy grin.

“Jesus, Kim.” Jimmy reached for his heart trying to stop it from jumping out of his chest. He went through a whole spectrum of emotions from panic to joy, finally settling on anger. She was not supposed to be here. This was not the plan. When he had hit self-destruct on his life it was just that, his life. Kim was meant to call Francesca to be told that he had tried his best but things did not work out, that one last time he was sorry. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Unfazed by his measured hostility Kim continued in a good mood. “Came to take you home.”

“We can’t--you can’t. It’s not--”

“I got a job at the Samoan International Financial Services Authority in April.” _April._ That was just a month after everything imploded and Jimmy had to make a run for it. She had probably spent the last couple of months working out everything and then managed to somehow track him down. Was there any point in asking this woman to stop fixing his problems? Probably not.

Despite learning to love himself a bit better he still couldn’t figure Kim’s motivations out. Marrying a struggling public defender with a colourful past was one thing but a fugitive? “Why are you---? Why would you--?”

“Because I love you, you idiot.” It was such an off-handed proclamation for a moment Jimmy thought she had told him a thousand times before but in fact this was the first time she ever voiced her true feelings for him. Baffled beyond belief all he could do was gape at her. She stood, giving a small smirk to his KC Royals lunch bag, she knew he would come around one day. “Do you still want to do this?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled softly, still in Gene’s skin, cautious and afraid and having a hard time believing she was here. He started to realise that with Kim around he would at least not be alone with his crazy, paranoid thoughts. That she might help calm things down again in his head. He also conceded that they were probably better off with Kim making all the decisions for a while.

“Good. Let’s pack you up then.” Closing the remaining distance between them she gave him a quick peck on his cheek breaking him out of his trance. When she pulled back, instead of a smile he had expected, he saw her scrunch up her nose no doubt having caught a whiff of icing and cinnamon. The plans changed immediately. “Shower first!”

When she followed her to the bathroom he concluded, _yes, definitely better with Kim in charge._

**Author's Note:**

>  **What do you think will happen to Kim?**  
>  Ever since Coushatta - maybe even before that - I've had this niggling feeling that she will end up in prison :( 
> 
> \-----  
> This fic was a direct denial of my own theory, because I hate myself and love (unrealistic?) happy endings.  
> Kim using her Mesa Verde experience to get a job in a tax haven: Samoa. Not to be confused with American Samoa (Go land crabs!). **This Samoa has no extradition treaty with the US.**
> 
> A tiny oopsie: Samoa has English common law. So...Kim’s working on American clients/project? Or something. Did not think this far.  
> 


End file.
